Seasons
by Dignified Spoon
Summary: As the seasons change, so do they. Angel/Collins.


Disclaimer:

**Disclaimer:**

**Haha, try again. **

**Also, this is my first attempt at a multi-chaptered fic. Whoop.**

_seasons_

_I._

A young man stands on the street, cradling a pickle tub in his arms. He sets it down on the ground and sits next to it. The man looks up at the sky and then back to his pickle tub before beating his hands against it in rhythm. He drums enthusiastically, losing himself in the music until it is interrupted by someone tossing money onto the tub. He smiles up at them.

"Merry Christmas," he says, and they say nothing in return because they are already halfway down the street, but he doesn't mind. He's used to it.

He returns to his drumming until he is once more distracted. The man lifts his head and hears a cough again. He stands up, grabs his pickle tub, and walks toward the sound. The coughing grows louder as he approaches an alley, and so he peers into it from around the corner. He sees a man sitting in the corner of it, in a heap on the ground. He can't seem to stop hacking, and so he approaches.

"You okay, honey?" the drummer inquires, a kindly look on his face.

"I'm afraid so," the man replies, and yet he coughs into his hand violently right after saying so.

"Did they get any money?" he asks the man, setting down his pickle tub again and leaning closer.

"Just my coat," he says, and then turns to retch.

The drummer pauses and looks at the man before saying, "I'm Angel."

"An Angel indeed…" mutters the man, causing the one called Angel to blush slightly, "I'm Collins, Tom Collins."

Angel puts out his hand, pulling the other man up. He loops Tom's arm around his shoulder and says, "I'll get you cleaned up," while Tom limps next to him. He leads Tom back to his apartment building in silence. They finally get to Angel's apartment and he places Tom on the couch, thereafter going to retrieve his pickle tub. When he returns, Tom has fallen asleep.

Angel giggles. "Tom," he whispers, walking over to the couch and shaking him a bit, "Tom…"

He doesn't stir a bit.

"Tom!"

He rolls onto his back, mumbles something incoherent, and then his eyes snap open.

"Mm… what? Wait - "

He gets up and looks around, before, Angel guessed, remembering the events of the last half hour or so. He speaks to himself under his breath again before sitting up slowly. Tom shivers and glances at the foot of the couch, then feels around behind him.

"Where's my coat?" he asks.

"They took it, remember?" Angel informs him, "But don't worry, we'll get you a new one."

He sighs, wrapping his arms around himself. Angel sits at his feet.

"The heat hasn't been working for a while," Angel continues, "but I have blankets… somewhere."

He mumbles the last part. Before Tom can say anything, Angel is up and rummaging through closets, occasionally tossing back a few items that may or may not have been in his way. Finally, after minutes on end, he emerges from the closet with a blanket. It looks thin and has holes in it, but, he thinks, it will do.

"Here you go, T - " he begins, but Tom cuts her off.

"Collins," he says, "please."

Angel nods, "Collins."

He puts the blanket on top of Tom… Collins, and then sits on the couch next to him. "Do you need anything? A… a drink? A place to stay?"

"Erm," Collins pauses, "if you could."

Angel flashes another grin of his, "Alright, then, you can stay in my room and I'll sleep in here. There's a Life Support meeting tomorrow at nine thirty - "

"Life Support?" Collins asks.

The grin comes off of Angel's face. "It's for people with AIDS - people like me," he admits

Collins simply blinks, which worries Angel. What if he was… afraid? He doesn't want him to go, not yet. But after a minute or two, Collins breaks the silence.

"Me too," he says.

Angel squeels, "Oh! Then you can start coming, too - would you - "

Collins smiles wearily, "Why not?"

Angel can't stop beaming the rest of the night.

* * *

The next day, as Angel pulls himself out of the shower, he grows suddenly self-conscious. What if Collins dislikes his… unusual taste in clothing? What if Collins gets scared and leaves? What if he never talks to her again? What if -

No. Collins didn't seem to Angel like the type of person to do that. He's probably seen it all, Angel assures himself. And so he pulls on his stockings, his skirt and his wig and leaves the bathroom.

* * *

Collins looks over his shoulder when he hears footsteps in the doorway. The person behind him - is a woman? He turns around and leans forth, blinking furiously to make sure he is seeing correctly.

Angel blushes. "Do you like it?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment, and then slowly he cracks a smile.

"You look... amazing."

* * *

**So, haha, that failed. But I would appreciate it if you reviewed and told me **_**how **_**much it failed. :D  
**

**I will give you internet lice if you don't. … Or maybe not. Uh. Yeah. PLS? I don't know if people like it or not if you don't review, and if you don't review and I don't know if you like it or not I may or may not continue. O: Oh, nuggets.  
**


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